


Those In Glass Houses Should Never Throw Stones

by bluehairedharlequin



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Being lead on, Everyone drinking like a fish, Heartbreak, M/M, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehairedharlequin/pseuds/bluehairedharlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's going on and on about these "looks" he's been getting from this guy, but in true Gerard style, has neglected to tell Mikey who the fuck he's going on about. </p><p>But, you know what they say, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those In Glass Houses Should Never Throw Stones

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely Jane who had to wait about three months for me to write her this as a birthday present.

They’re slumped on the floor, various bottles scattered on the filthy carpet of the van. The whole vehicle stinks like booze and pot, and Mikey wrinkles his nose and tries to focus on his brother’s drunken ramblings.

“I mean… Ssss’ not fair, he’s – he’s always givin’ me these looks, right Mikey, like he wants… Like he wantssss in my pants, and it’s – it’s not fair.”

Mikey’s pretty certain he’s the only halfway sober one out of his entire band right now – which is surprising to be honest, himself and Gerard are nicknamed the Chemical Brothers for a reason – but he’s also unsure as to where everyone else is. Frank had mumbled something about scoring more pot, and Ray and Otter have probably gone to get more horse-piss beer. That’s usually what happens.

Of course, Gerard was no in no fit state to even stand up, but still had an unerring habit of getting into trouble regardless of whether he could walk more than two steps or not. Mikey had offered to stay with him; it was his responsibility anyway, and meant Gerard could ramble on in peace without some asshole – most likely Otter – cutting in over him.

He’s still going on and on about these “looks” he’s been getting from this guy, but in typical Gerard style, has neglected to inform Mikey who the fuck he’s going on about. The Way’s are pretty good at getting information out of each other about a lot of things, but when there’s nothing to go on, it’s like getting blood out of a stone. Mikey settles for letting Gerard talk and occasionally nodding.

About twenty minutes later, the older Way falls asleep. Mikey’s mildly relieved.

*

The topic’s not dropped though. Gerard seemingly forgets every drunken conversation he has about this guy and his supposed looks, but also refuses to talk about it whilst sober. Saying that, he’s sober about 10% of the time, so it’s not like Mikey has much of a chance to bring it up here.

But every time they’re alone (i.e. every time everyone else has stumbled out looking for more mind-numbing substances), the conversation always comes back round to this guy. Whoever he is, he’s managing to upset Gerard, and no one gets away with that on Mikey’s watch.

*

Another show played, and everyone is in various degrees of wasted. Gerard and Frank are the worst, both of them wandering into the state of barely conscious, but Ray seems determined to drink himself into a stupor as well. Otter’s vanished again – not that’s unusual or unsurprising – and Mikey himself is slurring, words failing to co-operate with his unwilling tongue. It’s the normal disastrous scene in the van, but even Mikey notices the way Frank’s leaning in towards Gerard. It’s probably to better hear Gerard’s spiel about gender roles, or art school or whatever he’s focusing on tonight, but Mikey can’t help but notice the way Gerard’s leaning into Frank as well. They’re unnecessarily close to each other; heads tipped together, Gerard’s shaggy black hair weaving amongst Frank’s recently cropped brown. Mikey feels a bit creepy just from watching them, like he’s seeing something he isn’t supposed to.

* 

Ray eventually declares the van unsafe for human dwelling. Gerard disputes this, but Mikey and Frank back Ray up by using the basement’s health warning as a reason to ignore him. They pool what little funds they have together – “we’ve got to stop spending so much on booze, Jesus Christ” “stop being a killjoy Otter,” – and manage to scrape enough to buy the two horrifically seedy motel rooms.

(Mikey gets lumped with Gerard – no one ever wants to share a room with the older Way, and the current argument for Mikey dealing with it is that he’s “already shared a room with Gerard for about 10 years, you can handle one night, Mikey, Jesus.” He’s still not happy about it.)

Once up in the room, Mikey’s more than happy just to crash for the night and revel in the fact they’re sleeping somewhere that’s not the van, holy fuck, but then of course Gerard wants to go out and get some booze, and also manages to have money for the booze he wants to buy. Mikey’s mildly amazed. 

But, marveling aside, this now means that Gerard wants to go out and buy some more alcohol for himself, and as his brother, Mikey can’t morally allow him to stumble around for an off-license on his own at this time of night. So, they manage to walk (although, in Gerard’s case, walking is a poor way of describing how he’s moving through the motel’s parking lot. Shuffling would be more appropriate, Mikey thinks) to the nearest off-license, its yellow lights spilling onto the cracked sidewalk like a beacon. 

Gerard may have had sneaky left over money, but it’s not a lot, so they only just have enough for a couple of six packs of beer. It’ll probably be enough to get them drunk though, as the whole band is still nursing hangovers from… well, what feels like the last six months. It’s not that much of an inaccurate guess, to be fair. 

Surprisingly, when they arrive back at the motel, neither of them is missing a leg or sporting some ridiculous head injury, so Mikey counts the booze hoarding expedition as a win. He would have still preferred to just stay in the room and lay on the bed, but as reluctant alcohol runs go, it’s nowhere near the worst.

The cans of crap (what is supposedly classified as beer) are cracked open, Gerard gulping two down in the time it takes Mikey to sip his way through half of a can. The younger Way is unsure as to what it says about his older brother, but he lets it slide, choosing to stare at the ceiling and waiting for Gerard to start his half brained rambling. 

It’s only about half an hour later when Mikey starts to hear slurred grumbling from the corner Gerard’s slumped in. It’s too quiet to distinguish what exactly he’s saying, but Mikey didn’t share a room with Gerard practically his whole life and still not know what his sobs sound like. He slides off the bed he was lying on, and looks over to his brother, crumpled up in the corner, clutching an empty can. 

Gerard looks up, and holds his arms out pathetically, and Mikey can’t refuse him – never has been able to – he slides his skinny arms around his brother, and curls up next to him. He smells like beer, and stale sweat, with that unique scent that’s distinctly him; a smell Mikey can clearly remember from when they were so much younger and used to sleep in the same bed, and always reminds him of home. He pulls back slightly, and sees his brother’s face, eyes red and puffy, dark circles under the hazel orbs that have nothing to do with the eyeliner Gerard wears.

Gerard’s still mumbling, but now that he’s closer, he can hear his brothers slurred speech: “I don’ get… why he… why he… doessss thiss to me, Mikes. Coz like, like, I don’ love ‘im and I… but. I ssssorta, like…” Gerard takes another swig of beer from the can he’s clutching like a lifeline, before carrying on: “Annnnd, it’sss like… like, he’sss juss’ tryin’ to piss me off – why… why, is he. Why tha’ fuck iss he doin’ this Mikes?”

Mikey doesn’t have an answer, but nor does he have the name of the guy making his brother cry. He lets Gerard cry.

*

The play in another shitty little club, but Gerard’s on fire tonight, screaming and howling and spitting, like he’s trying to exorcise all his demons through singing. It sometimes scares Mikey when Gerard’s like this; he’s like a hurricane, tearing through whatever he can get his hands on – but it’s the inevitable crash Mikey loathes with every fiber of his being. When Gerard stops being the hurricane, when he recesses to being a shadow, that’s what Mikey hates.

And whilst tonight’s storm might be making for an excellent show, it’s not worth the downfall it’ll cause later. But his brother continues to screech the words out, running all over the space they have to play, waving his arms about and snarling at anyone who looks at him twice – which pretty means everyone in the bar is having Gerard Way’s infamous snarl thrown in their faces – Mikey watches and hopes to hell that Gerard’s not going to fall apart on stage. It’s like he’s thriving on whatever is plaguing his head, and when he yells the last few lines directly at Frank, it all clicks in Mikey’s head.

*

It’s getting a little boring, watching the rest of the band slowly sink further into a boozy haze – it happens after almost every show now, liquor bottles clinking together and the unmistakable noise of beer cans being squashed as someone sits on one – but it’s “a way to celebrate another show, Mikey, my good man”, Otter cheers, waving a bottle of Jack around his head. Frank sniggers from the corner of the van, where he’s curled up in Gerard’s lap, with Gerard petting his hair gently. They look oddly domestic, and it’s out of place in the cramped, smelly van and the pair of them stinking of booze and unwashed guy. 

Ray seems to think so to; he’s giggling at the both of them all wrapped up in each other, like the rest of the van doesn’t even exist, and Mikey’s suspicions are confirmed when he sees the look of absolute adoration on Frank’s face as he peers up at Gerard.

Suddenly the van is too cramped. So Mikey stumbles out, muttering about a smoke.

*

For all of Mikey’s silent promises to himself about breaking anyone who upsets Gerard, he can’t bring himself to even talk to Frank about it. The sinking feeling in his gut tells him Frank is being ripped to shreds by whatever is between him and Gerard much more than Mikey’s brother is.

*

It’s quieter in the van now, the rest of the guys in drunken stupors that pretty much pass for sleep, but Mikey can’t get the picture of Frank’s face as he looked at Gerard out of his head. He understands how Gerard feels now, but it’s laced with the bitter feeling that Frank cries himself to sleep over the same thing.

It sits there like a lump in Mikey’s throat, the knowledge that Frank feels trapped by Gerard, just the way Gerard feels trapped by Frank. Remnants of his and Gerard’s last conversation floats through Mikey’s head, about suggestive looks, and the desperate bleats of “why” and he realizes that Frank’s not playing a game.

Gerard is.

For all of his rambling about hating Frank’s “looks”, his actions say otherwise – all the hair stroking and letting Frank sit in his lap tonight, the kisses on stage, the way Gerard cuddles up to Frank in every spare second he can find, the little jokes they have between the two of them, the extra interest he takes in Frank’s casual guitar playing… 

Mikey swallows the lump, and faces up the fact that his brother is not the blameless party in this situation. No matter how much he’d like him to be.

*

The next morning, Mikey can’t even bring himself to look at his brother, choosing instead to peer into the dark depths of the coffee in his mug, like it’ll have the answers to his predicament. He tunes the other guys out too, and lets his gaze only ever shift between the diner walls and his coffee, ignoring all concerned glances shit his way.

It’s not until they’re outside the shitty diner that Gerard corners him, worry tainting his eyes, that Mikey knows what to say.

Before his brother can even open his mouth, Mikey mutters: 

“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

Gerard’s worry melts away into confusion, his brow creased slightly. Mikey ignores him again, walking across the parking lot and stumbling back into the van, tucking his knees up to his chest as he sits. Gerard shuffles in a second later, eyebrows still furrowed, but still slides in next to Frank, swinging an arm around him and cuddling close.

Mikey feels sick.

And all he can do is offer Frank a silent apology. And wait for the inevitable heartbreak that his brother will cause.


End file.
